


i'll spin for you like our favourite records used to

by somebody_im_not



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, also paul's autistic and emma's adhd, can you tell paulkins deserves all the rights? cuz they do, its not relevant to the story but it's important to me that you know this, so its just them bonding in colorado and learning to love each other, so the plot until inevitable is the same but inevitable is a dream sequence in emma's head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25660867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebody_im_not/pseuds/somebody_im_not
Summary: Emma woke to Paul snoring silently on the chair beside her hospital bed. It was such a stark contrast to the Paul, who'd tried to...kill her. What was happening?-the one in which Paul and Emma both barely survived and are trying to build a life together away in Colorado.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	i'll spin for you like our favourite records used to

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ishipit246](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishipit246/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIKI!! this is my (2 day late) birthday present to you 😌 since you introduced me to starkid, i only thought it was fitting if i wrote you this. enjoy some paulkins content :")

Hatchetfield was a mess. But, y’know, she survived. That was something.

Clivesdale wasn’t much better but at least, she knew that the infection had stopped. With Paul. She couldn’t keep thinking about it. Colonel Schaffer had told her there were no survivors. She couldn’t get her hopes up. She would not.

“You will be escorted to Colorado by a Mr. Ben Bridges,” Colonel Schaffer continued on. Emma’s face screwed up. She didn’t know any _Ben Bridges_.

“On the contrary, the two of you were great friends. In fact, some would like to think it was something more,” she added with a wink and walked off.

Who did Emma know that would be that close to her? She could only think of – but she couldn’t think of him now. She heard footsteps coming in. It was…

“Paul? Oh my god, Paul! I thought you didn’t get out of there! I was so worried!” His big noodle arms wrapped around her in a reassuring hug and she melted into it. She had missed him. Thinking a person as dead could really mess you up.

“ _Emma, I’m sorry -_ ” No. No, this couldn’t be happening! Paul couldn’t be singing.

“ _Emma -_ ” No. No! She had to get away! If Paul had survived and was singing, then the rest of them had to have as well!

Paul was blocking the exits. All she could hear was the burning sound of his singing. Professor Hidgens was there too. It broke her heart, seeing her kooky, survivalist biology professor having had to submit himself to an alien’s will.

There was a nurse, too. The infection was spreading. If they could get their hands on the staff, how fast could this thing spread? Everyone was coming back now. Paul’s friends, Nora, they were all back! She had to get away! Call the P.E.I.P. or something! They could stop this from happening again!

She had to get away but every road led back to the hospital room. “Is this a fucking loop?!” she screamed. She couldn’t get away. They were giving her renditions of all the songs they’d sung before. Once they hit Professor Hidgens’ musical piece, she knew. She knew she couldn’t get away. She let out one last yell as Paul advanced on her once again, with the rest surrounding her.

This was the whole _fucking_ reason she’d never wanted to get close to anyone ever again. She’d never thought this would ever happen to her, but it fucking hurt. And strangely, she didn’t care if she was dead now. She cared that Paul was.

She was tackled to the ground, a needle went into her neck, and all she felt was black.

***

She woke up to Paul sitting beside her.

He was sleeping, neck thrown back painfully on the chair rest and wrapped in a coat, so much more at ease than she’d ever seen him. And it offered such a stark contrast to the…infected man she’d seen that she couldn’t help the tiny yelp that escaped her mouth.

Paul sat up almost immediately, eyes frenzied, until his gaze stopped short on her. She wondered if he’d even been asleep in the first place. She instinctively tried to curl up, given that she had nowhere else to go, but the sharp sting on her thigh kept her in place.

Paul rose up, the frenzy in his eyes replaced with regular concern. He opened his mouth and for a moment, she was terrified he was going to sing. She was so sure that a warble would rise out of his throat. He’d kill her and she’d…she’d become one of them. She shut her eyes tight, ready for the death, but it never came.

“Emma, are you alright?”

It was – was _Paul_. Not that pale imitation of him she’d seen, but him. Number one: he wasn’t singing, thankfully. But, more importantly, his voice still had that cadence of awkwardness she’d picked up on every time he’d come for a black coffee. It had that note of concern she’d remembered right before she’d almost kissed him right outside the helicopter crash. She looked up dazed. How was he…how was he okay? He’d been infected, hadn’t he? Only her memory of his dance number was getting fuzzy now. In fact, her vision was blurring.

Fuck. That wasn’t good. She slumped back onto the hospital bed and blacked out again.

***

This time she woke up with her head clearer than it’d been in days. She blearily looked around and this time, there was no Paul on the chair. She couldn’t help her huff of disappointment.

She hadn’t been restrained like she thought she’d been, but rather it had just been her leg acting up again. She must’ve busted it again when…when Paul had sung.

Too coincidentally, the door opened in front of her. She expected one of the hotel staff to walk in, but no, it was Paul again.

His eyes were bleary from sleep deprivation and he was holding a cup of coffee in his hands – ironic, she thought wryly. Had he been here the whole time she’d been recovering? That was some…commitment.

He stopped short when he saw she was awake and the words immediately came out, “Emma? You’re awake!” He looked between her and the expanse of the hotel behind him and then said, “Oh, I’m sorry, should I be getting a doctor? I’ll be rig-”

She interrupted him; her voice raspy from disuse. Just how long had she been out? “It – it’s fine, Paul. Just…” she gestured to his chair, “sit.”

He meekly sat down, nursing his cup in his hands. They sat in silence, for as long as Emma was willing to push it, and she had to admit. Even with her leg healing from the, y’know, and the awkwardness that had followed Paul, it was…nice.

When she couldn’t take the burning question in her throat, she finally asked, “Did you…did you sing?”

Paul looked up anxiously. “No. No, I would know if I sang.”

Paul, you fucking dumbass. “But then…what happened? Didn’t you guys kill me? My head’s still a little fuzzy.” She chose to ignore the fact that it wasn’t.

Paul set down his cup gently on her bedside table, which she didn’t think was allowed, but okay. He carefully clasped his fingers and raised them to his head. He started slowly, “I don’t know how to break this to you, Emma, but no, I did not kill you.”

She couldn’t help the scowl on her face. She knew that. Or at least, she thinks she does. “What the fuck even happened then?”

He spread out his hands in a gesture that clearly read ‘ _I have no fucking clue_ ’ and said, “I came to pick you and I went ‘Hey Emma’ because you know, I was scared for you because I never knew if you’d come back alive so I said that, but then you started running away from me. The doctors had to physically tackle you to the ground to get you to calm down, which I don’t think was legal but you kicked me in the shins and that _hurt_. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a few days now, but they say you should be better soon. I think you tore the stitches on your leg as well during the struggle so that’s another reason you’ve been here for so long now. But we should be able to ditch soon.” He gave her a little smile.

Her mind was racing, not just because of Paul’s ramble, but because of the implications. They hadn’t sung? There hadn’t been a huge musical number? It was all just…in her head?

Oh. Oh god. Wow. Okay.

So…she had trauma now. Nothing new, right? She sunk back down onto the soft fluffy pillow and left Paul to his coffee in silence. She would never say whether she’d fallen asleep or was still lying awake when the doctors came to check up on her.

***

Paul helped her check out of the hospital. She’d never be able to thank him enough at this point. Hell, she’d still been relegated to crutches until it healed over properly.

Then again, she supposes he’s still following Colonel Schaffer’s orders, to ‘escort her’ to Colorado. He’d helped her out of the hospital and shuffled her into a beat-up car that he was sure he’d just rented to get them to the closest airport. She didn’t even think he knew how to drive.

She was half right, of course. The man could not for the life of himself work his way through traffic. Next time, she’d have to do it. It was only fitting.

The drive was short but it still felt entirely too long. She just could never sit still. Maybe before Hatchetfield she would’ve put on some music, but now, the thought left a sour taste in her mouth. And, great, there was a before and after now.

They got to the airport without much incident and had to toil through immigration for a while. She handed them her passport without a glance and startled when they called her “Kelly Parker.” _Right_ , she’d forgotten that Emma Perkins allegedly didn’t exist anymore. Paul, too. He was Ben Bridges now. If anything, his name had gotten even more common.

And just like that, their last connection to Hatchetfield, gone. She didn’t want to think about all the people dead and gone in the deserted city. Charlotte. Bill. Professor Hidgens. Even fucking Ted.

She didn’t even want to think about Tom. She was not going to go there, especially not right there, still enduring airport immigration.

She and, ugh, _Ben_ , made their way up into the airline quick and easy and Emma settled herself in. This would be a long flight, at least metaphorically given the 3-hour flight time, and she propped the neck pillow so it was at least somewhat comfortable.

For the first time, she was happy she was short. At least she didn’t have legs for days like Paul, who was struggling to fit his legs in the small seat space. Something she didn’t know she had possessed her, and she clutched his hand reassuringly.

He looked at her uncertainly but when neither pulled away, he gave her a tiny smile that took her breath away. She closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep.

***

5 acres felt like a lot to her.

She’d spent – what was it? – almost 10 years backpacking through Guetamala. Even back in Hatchetfield, she’d never had more than a tiny, shitty apartment to her name. And now, she had a pretty sizable mansion to her. She’d never had this much space and it…it freaked her out.

There were plenty of rooms throughout the house. She and Paul instinctively drifted to separate rooms and Emma was going to ignore the pang in her heart when Paul always disappeared into his own room.

She’d have to re-enrol into college. She’d already completed her second year in that hell-school but just to her luck, _Kelly Parker_ , had never attended college. She’d need to go back. Well… Fuck.

At least she had pride in her abilities. She’d already completed a few semesters. If she wasn’t allowed in, well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. For now, she’d need money.

For some reason, Paul still had all his old qualifications so he could find a job. Lucky him. He’d found an office that was almost identical to the one he’d used to work at. She on the other hand, didn’t have any credentials so…

Coffee shop.

She wasn’t going to sink so low to join Starbucks. No thanks. Given that they were living in a college town anyway, there were many hippie cafés around she could get hired at.

And she ignored all the goddamn parallels. She ignored the fact that one of her co-workers was a theatre major. She ignored the fact that her boss still made them wear shitty outfits. At least the customers were somewhat nicer, probably since they were all millennials too.

But it still fucked her up. She kept mixing up Catherine’s name with Zoey. She had to make a conscious effort Not to sing despite the hell they’d been through.

She tried to go as monotone as possible. Just going through the motions. She couldn’t take it anymore. Until one day, when a too-cheery voice perked her attention.

“One black coffee, please.” Oh my _god…_

Her vision cleared for a second. And fuck, it was Paul. With his dumb, cute smile and the little quip in his hair he’d been growing out. He looked…he looked happy in a way she hadn’t really seen since their own meetings back at the other coffee shop before the meteor hit. She couldn’t help the dumb grin all over her face.

***

She snapped up to a tap on her shoulder.

She had been slumped over an essay…make that two…okay, she wasn’t going to disclose how many essays she had worked over. She personally had no clue. All she could see was her hand going slack and the pen dropping down. She startled up to see Paul standing beside her table.

“Emma, why are you still awake?” he asked concernedly. “I mean, I know _I_ have a shitty sleep schedule, but I always remember you sleeping before me. Why is your light still on?”

Only now did the pain in her back catch up with her as it made a cracking noise when she straightened it. “I was…doing some papers? Must’ve spent a lot more time on them than I thought I would.”

Paul let out a wry laugh. “Emma, it’s 3am.”

She immediately bolted up. “It’s 3? Shit, I need to _sleep_.” Then her brain realised Paul was still awake. “Wait, why are you still awake? Do you regularly sleep at this time?”

Paul looked at her anxiously and sighed. “I…It’s been a little hard for me to sleep as of late.” He shook his head dismissively. “That’s not important…you need your sleep.”

She squinted her eyes. “Am I missing something here? What about you, dingus?”

Paul shook his head. “I just…can’t. I can’t explain but I can’t sleep. I swear it wasn’t like this before.”

They both knew what ‘before’ meant.

She would blame her sleep-deprived brain for this later but for now, she simply said, “Come on, sleep with me.”

Paul’s eyes shot up and he started sputtering. Saving him from a fate like that, she punched him on his arm and said, “Not like _that_! Yeesh, Paul. Maybe you’re just in need of some company y’know? I’ll sleep on the sofa if you don’t want me on the bed.”

That jarred Paul back. “No, no, I couldn’t let you sleep on the sofa. I’ll sleep there, you can take the bed.”

She put a reassuring hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Really, it’s no problem. As long as I got a place to sleep, I’ll take it. You on the other hand, are the size of two giraffes and look like death. I would be doing a disservice to make you sleep somewhere besides the bed.” It was an exaggeration, but now those tiny bags she’d noticed on his eyes actually made sense.

After a bit more cajoling, Paul finally accepted. She settled herself onto the sofa – maybe being short had some perks when Paul wasn’t putting his elbows on her head.

She fell asleep within seconds. When she woke back up, Paul was already gone. Figures. His job called him earlier than her classes started. But there was a tiny post-it stuck on her. She peeled it off and looked at the messy script for a second. All it held was a little “ _Thank you :D_ ” but it filled her with warmth.

And honestly? She hadn’t slept this well in forever either.

***

She had no clue that they’d end up the way they did.

She’d just been working on a paper and Paul had done his thing again. Tapping her on the shoulder and bringing her back out of it.

But it was _not_ midnight like it usually was with them. It was only 8? She’d just come home 2 hours ago. What did Paul want?

She voiced as such. He just shrugged a little and smiled at her. “Come on,” he gestured out. She looked at the progress she’d made on her essay…eh, it could wait. She pushed back her chair and followed Paul down the stairs, to the central hearth.

She did not remember usually being here. The two of them tended to work in their offices and sleep in their own bedrooms (at least until she’d moved into his) and if any of them slinked down to the living room to watch Netflix, the other was almost never there since they had different work timings. Huh.

He was already sitting on the couch, takeout spread in front of him. _Score…_

She had already flung herself down next to him and plucked the chopsticks out of the paper box. After a second, she looked up at Paul, who was fiddling with the TV remote. She cleared her throat, “Hey, Paul? I see what you’re doing but uh, why?”

He looked sort of hurt but piped up nonetheless. “You know, it’s been a few months since we moved here. And we’ve both…settled into our jobs and classes and stuff. And, I don’t know, we never really do anything together? So I thought we could just, hang out? Watch some Netflix and eat? Felt like a good idea to me at first…” He trailed off unhappily.

She punched his shoulder with no real effort and said, “It’s a _wonderful_ idea. God knows I could use a distraction. Come on, Matthews, what we watching?”

Only when she heard the first strings of the instrumental, did she perk up. “Yo! Avatar? You got good taste, Paul!”

Paul rubbed his neck wryly and said, “I never really watched the show before. I just see a lot of people talking about it and I thought maybe, it’d be interesting. There’s only an added bonus that no one really sings.”

Emma’s brain had a vague memory of a song called ‘Secret Tunnel’ or something. She elected not to tell Paul this. “You really missed out, this show was my entire childhood. I’m so glad it’s making a comeback. I’m going to get you so obsessed with this.”

Paul immediately clamped his hands over his ears and went, “No! Spoilers!” She just reclined back onto the couch and shoved some noodles into her mouth.

He accepted her wordless confirmation and reclined back to, leaving the remote on the table and picking up some of the takeout for himself as well. She was never going to tell anyone that by the halfway point of the first episode, her head had already slipped into the crick of Paul’s neck.

***

By the 10th episode, Emma had worked herself up way too much. She had wanted to slap the fucking mouth wheat out of Jet’s mouth since she was 8, and now here she was, a fully capable adult, with the wish to do the exact same thing.

She had completely forgotten he’d existed. But, there was just so much rage in her pent up about his fucking eyebrows.

Before long, she’d worked herself up into a rant, and Paul had paused the video to listen in. She didn’t remember what would happen to him, and she did sympathize with what he’d been through, but hell if that hair did not drive her absolutely insane.

When she finally calmed down enough to stop and turn to Paul, he had the mushiest expression she’d ever seen on his face. She snapped out of her haze to ask, “What?”

Paul’s voice came out almost like a whisper. “I love you.”

She immediately stiffened and in her peripheral vision, Paul did too. She heard him swear and say, “Shit, did I say that out loud? Oh no, I’m _so_ sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

She exhaled carefully and looked at Paul again. 2 words filtered out of her mouth. “Since when?”

Paul still looked uncomfortable but answered the best he could, “Um, since I started getting coffee from Beanie’s? I’d come in the first time and you and another customer were the only others inside and, I don’t know, I just liked you. And the coffee too, but also you, and I wanted to get to know you. So, I kept coming back and though we only really talked about my dumb coffee choices, I just liked you more and more. And I don’t know, it just dawned on me that maybe I like you more than just liking you. And I’ve said ‘I don’t know’ twice, and now I’m scared. Emma, are you okay?”

She kept her voice short. “Why haven’t you told me this?”

He immediately turned around, hands up in confusion. “I…I didn’t want to, break things, I guess? Like, we’ve had a semi-normal life here in Colorado and I didn’t want to mess it up in case everything became messy. Which it – it’s messy right now, isn’t it?”

She had half a mind to get up and leave, but she didn’t. She couldn’t just avoid the matter entirely. Paul was too nice to have to deal with a… _someone_ like her.

“No!” Oh, so now _she’d_ said that aloud. Hell.

Paul continued, despite her tiny blush. “You’re…you’re amazing you know? I just,” he sighed, “I can’t articulate anything, you’re just so _you_ , and I love you for that.”

Emma stayed still for a second and then turned around. Before she’d been okay to just repress it and not talk about it but now it just came spilling out. “Paul I – I don’t know if I love you like you like that, I don’t love you. But,” she wrung her hands, “I do _like_ you. I…can I kiss you?”

Paul just nodded shyly. She pulled him close and their lips locked.

It wasn’t heated or deep or anything like Emma’s other kisses. It was soft, like the two of them were just testing the waters together. Paul pulled away first and smiled at her. She joked, “This was a lot better than outside the helicopter.”

Paul looked at her for a second and when he realised she was just joking, pulled her in for a hug. She melted into it. This right here in front of her, was real and correct and just so _Paul_. This really was a new beginning for the two of them, wasn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> \- i loved writing this!!! i am fully aware there is no actual,, dancing and singing in this fic but i like fob a Lot and ab/ap is an underrated album and favourite record is obviously one of my faves so Yes. i doubt i'll write more starkid content but eh, here's my contribution to the fandom.   
> \- yes, the author IS obsessed with atla at the moment, emma definitely watched both it and lok as a child dont take this from me.   
> \- paulkins deserve ALL the rights, theyre my emotional support couple. i need to go watch tgwdlm again, absolute masterpiece. i did not actually really watch tgwdlm again to write this and i am in no way as funny and chaotic as jon, lauren and the langs are when it comes to script and delivery so im sorry if theyre a bit ooc, i tried my best.   
> \- i'm also sorry i do not address their trauma when comes to hatchetfield, i originally had another part of this fic to put out too but i scrapped it at the end :(  
> \- hope everyone reading this enjoyed it. my tumblr is @bi-sukis since i'm too lazy to link it pls follow me


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